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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27770542">Pawns Don't Go Back</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia'>psychomachia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Queen's Gambit (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Tourist Guide to 1960s Soviet Union, Chess, Chess Metaphors, Defection, Found Family, Gen, Look At Your Life Look At Your Choices (And Realize They're Amazing), Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:15:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27770542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone wondered if Beth Harmon was planning to defect. </p><p>Beth preferred to think of it as an extended vacation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beth Harmon &amp; Chess, Past Beth Harmon/Benny Watts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>273</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Heart Attack Exchange 2020, bookmarks</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pawns Don't Go Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/gifts">elegantstupidity</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beth played until it got dark, until the moon rose and the stars went from tiny specks to bright twinkles, until the pieces were obscured in shadow, and yet she thought she could close her eyes and still play, guided by nothing more than her sense of the board.</p><p>None of the men – Mr. Tsvetkov, Mr. Kasnayenko, Mr. Scherbina, among the many that introduced themselves – were a challenge, but that wasn't the point.</p><p>It was chess. It was breathing and feeling and her blood rushing through her veins and she could play drunk, could play sober, could play any way she wanted and know it was her each and every time.</p><p>It was Mr. Shaibel in the basement, teaching her for the very first time. It was playing against Benny, never keeping score and knowing they were both lying about that. It was losing and winning and realizing that time could be both infinite as your mind calculated the best move and measured by fractions of seconds on a clock, knowing both what you had left and what your opponent did.</p><p>“Liza Harmon,” Mr. Kasnayenko said, and Beth stood up. He took her hand like so many of the men here did, as if he were greeting a goddess, a queen taken off the board and brought to life.</p><p>“Thank you,” she said, smiling. She wanted to touch the corners of her mouth, to feel it, because it was real, she thought. She was probably happy.</p><p>What a strange concept.</p><p>“No, thank you,” he said and bowed. “You were magnificent.”</p><p>Beth watched him walk off, into the cold air. She should be frozen, she thought. She'd been outside for who knows how long, and Moscow was hardly Mexico.</p><p>She wasn't though. There was too much fire in her.</p>
<hr/><p>The State Department was pissed, of course.</p><p>“You've missed your flight,” the flunky says. “We're trying to see if we can get you back but Pan Am and Aeroflot haven't worked out their little spat yet, so things are limited. The higher-ups are trying to smooth things over with the White House. They're saying you had a bout of exhaustion and had to rest.”</p><p>Beth rolled her eyes. “Right,” she said. “Because I'm a delicate little flower who wilts in competition. Maybe you should get me a handkerchief so I could hold it to my forehead?”</p><p>The flunky sighed. “Look,” he replied, “I know people like you--”</p><p>“People like me?” Beth interrupted, raising her eyebrows. “You mean, women?”</p><p>“Intellectuals,” he said. “All you think about is one thing, what you're good at. You don't think about the politics, do you?”</p><p>He wasn't wrong, Beth thought, but he was also stupid. “I get politics,” she said. “I also get that it's not worth a damn to me.”</p><p>“Naturally,” the flunky said dryly. “Which is why I'm here. So just play along and as soon as I can rebook you on a flight out--”</p><p>Beth nodded. “Yes,” she said. “But there's a problem.”</p><p>“Which is?”</p><p>“I'm not leaving.”</p><p>The flunky blinked. “What?”</p><p>“You can tell the State Department I'm going to stick around.”</p><p>“You can't be serious,” the flunky said. His face was turning a very unbecoming shade of red and Beth thought she could see a raised blood vessel. “Are you—are you going to?” He broke off.</p><p>“Going to--?” Beth looked at him, put her hands under her chin and smiled. “I believe the word you're looking for is defect.”</p><p>“Fuck,” the man said. “Are you?”</p><p>And Beth's smile widened, as she fluttered her eyelashes and said, “Call it a vacation if it makes you guys feel better.”</p><p>He was unable to speak coherently for several minutes after that, and Beth thought, it's not entirely a lie.</p><p>It's just I have to see if it's the truth.</p>
<hr/><p>“Fine,” the flunky said the next morning, as they sat drinking very bitter coffee. “I've talked to my boss who talked to his boss who talked to—well, it doesn't matter. They're willing to spin this as some sort of goodwill tour. Spreading American democracy to the masses and the like.”</p><p>“Yeah, I'm not doing speeches,” Beth said.</p><p>“We figured,” he said and then the flunky stared at her. “I don't get it,” he said.</p><p>“Get what?” His look was oddly scrutinizing, the kind she'd seen focused on her from across a board. Beth felt like she was a particularly thorny placement he was trying to unravel, a piece he hadn't seen coming.</p><p>“Well, I'm not going to question what they're doing,” he finally answered. “Let's just hope it produces results.”</p><p>“Didn't you say I beat the Soviets at their own game?” Beth said, sipping her cup. “Whatever happens, it's going to be a win.”</p><p>The flunky just shook his head. “This is why I hate working with geniuses.”</p><p>"I'll take that as a compliment," Beth replied smugly and motioned for the waiter.</p>
<hr/><p>She went back to the park with a longer leash and a list of rather pointed conditions to abide by for her little sojourn in the Soviet Union.</p>
<ol>
<li>You may express sympathy for their plight, or love for their cultural artifacts, but refrain from overenthusiastic embrace of their lifestyle. If you can, please casually mention things you find superior about American lifestyles.</li>
<li>Don't venture beyond major cities – while more rural areas provide opportunities for outreach to a less educated populace, we cannot guarantee safety as easily.</li>
<li>If you play chess in public settings, make sure to win.</li>
</ol><p>The third one was the only one she intended to keep. Everything else—well, it was a vacation, wasn't it? That meant doing what she wanted, playing who she wanted, talking to whomever she felt like.</p><p>“Liza Harmon,” they greeted her again. “You're back.”</p><p>She smiled and ducked her head. “Yes,” she said. “Ready to play?”</p><p>Mr. Scherbina grinned. “Of course,” he replied. “But surely, we are poor sport for you?”</p><p>“Never,” Beth answered and sat down carefully across from him. The other men stood back, respectful but keen on observation of the board. “I may disappoint you someday.”</p><p>Mr. Tsvetkov laughed. “Pawns don't go back,” he said. “Liza Harmon will always play beautiful chess.”</p><p>It was not the first time Beth had heard that, but it had never been said to her with such warmth. “Thank you,” she said softly, and picked up her pawn.</p>
<hr/><p>“Are you serious?”</p><p>Benny's voice crackled over the line, and Beth smiled at the familiar mixture of anger and disbelief in it. “I thought you liked it when I acted impulsively,” she said.</p><p>“I have never said that,” Benny protested. “Fuck, I should have seen this coming when you didn't take that flight back.”</p><p>“You knew?”</p><p>“Of course, I knew.” Beth could hear muffled voices in the background and the sound of a scuffle. “We were planning on meeting you at the airport when you got back here.”</p><p>“Oh, that's sweet,” Beth said. “All of you?”</p><p>“If your adoring crowd would have let us.” She could practically picture the smug look on Benny's face. “And the White House? You turned all that down to sign autographs over there while freezing your ass off?”</p><p>“Jealous?”</p><p>“Naturally,” Benny replied. “And also worried. They're saying you're some sort of goodwill ambassador, sent to deliver freedom and justice to the godless Communists.”</p><p>“And what do you think?”</p><p>“I think the person who told the Christian Crusade where to shove it has better things to do,” Benny said. “So whatever game you're playing right now involving the State Department, make sure it's one you know the endgame on.”</p><p>“You're assuming there's even a game to be played,” Beth answered. “Maybe they're just humoring a simple girl looking for some rest, relaxation, and public adulation.”</p><p>“If I actually believed that, I wouldn't be so concerned.” The muffled shouting got louder. “Just—take care of yourself,” Benny said. “That goes from all of us.”</p><p>“I love you guys too.”</p><p>Beth hung up, looked around her room. She had no idea how long the State Department was going to pay for it, but as long as she wasn't dipping into her reserves, she guessed she'd have to play along.</p><p>For now. If there was one thing Beth was a master on, it was getting out of messy situations.</p><p>And getting into even messier ones.</p>
<hr/><p>Another day, another park visit. There was a list the State Department had given her of possible locations to go to, places to be photographed, tourist attractions where her appearance could be played up for maximum value.</p><p>Beth crumpled it up into a ball and tossed into the trash. She suspected they would have accounted for that.</p><p>But she hadn't accounted for the new face there.</p><p>A solemn girl with brown braids and horn-rimmed glasses sat next to Mr. Scherbina. She peered owlishly up at Beth as she approached, and Beth was suddenly taken back to her less than glamorous childhood days.</p><p>It was nice being able to wear stylish clothes, she thought, but there were times when she thought perhaps being less noticeable would have benefited her in a few of the matches.</p><p>“This is my granddaughter, Agnessa,” Scherbina said. “She's a big fan of yours and insisted upon meeting you.” He shrugged. “What can I do? She's very strong-willed.”</p><p>Agnessa flushed and ducked her head, mumbling something Beth couldn't catch.</p><p>“Nonsense,” Scherbina said. “She'll play a game with you.”</p><p>Something in Beth loosened, like a rubber band stretched tight suddenly releasing, and she felt a curious sense of lightness. She bent down to Agnessa. “Do you want to play?” she asked.</p><p>Agnessa looked up, her gray eyes sharp and focused, and she nodded a sharp nod. “Very much,” she said.</p><p>“Then let's play,” Beth said and waited for her to sit down.</p>
<hr/><p>“A promising game for a beginner,” Kasnayenko said. “Your granddaughter takes after you, eh Scherbina?”</p><p>Scherbina chuckled. “Perhaps,” he said. “Maybe if she keeps practicing, she will take longer to lose to Liza Harmon than her poor grandfather.”</p><p>It was possible.</p><p>Agnessa was too cautious, and waited far too late in the game to make any aggressive moves that might have saved her. She also had a tendency to chew on her braid when she made a particularly bad move.</p><p>Beth regarded her with fondness. “You're very good,” she told Agnessa. “You might even be great if you took some chances.”</p><p>Scherbina and Agnessa shared a look. “She's already taken a few,” he said. “Her parents do not know she is here.” He held a finger to his lips. “Please keep it a secret.”</p><p>“I will,” Beth said. “But I can't make promises for anyone else,” she added. “I do have a few people following me around.”</p><p>“Don't we all,” Scherbina replied. “At least yours are in it for the pictures.”</p><p>Beth theatrically groaned and winked at Agnessa. “And everyone wonders why I have to be so pretty,” she added. “Believe me, it's not that fun.”</p><p>“I won't have that problem,” Agnessa whispered.</p><p>Beth looked at the girl, at the light gray eyes that were like polished stones on the white marble board of her face. “You'd be surprised,” she said, “at how much we grow.”</p>
<hr/><p>There was a familiar face waiting for her when she got back to the hotel.</p><p>“Townes,” Beth said and ran to hug him. “What are you still doing here?”</p><p>“I might ask you the same question,” he said. “Weren't you supposed to be on a plane back to the States?”</p><p>“Everyone keeps telling me that,” Beth said. “Funny how that isn't happening.”</p><p>“Yes, it's hilarious.” Townes walked with her up to her room. “Where's your bodyguards?”</p><p>“Keeping a discreet distance,” Beth answered. “I mean, they may think you're going to ravish me or something in the hotel room, but we both know that's not going to happen.”</p><p>“How's Benny?” Townes grinned as Beth closed the door behind them. “Still giving you moral support or is he planning on flying down here to convince you to come back home?”</p><p>“Look, Townes, not all of us have Moscow paying for us to seduce the newest queen of chess. He's content to just mother hen at me from a distance. Plus, there's always the phone if he wants to get off.”</p><p>“Only if you want the KGB to listen in,” Townes shrugged. “Honestly, I'm surprised they didn't leak all our plans to Borgov.”</p><p>Beth sat down on the bed, leaned back and kicked her feet up. “I'm not,” she said. “He wouldn't have taken it.”</p><p>“You sure on that?”</p><p>“Yes.” There was no hesitation there and even she was surprised that she hadn't considered it. But everyone has the tricks they will and will not play, and in any case, it wouldn't have mattered. The final movement was all hers.</p><p>Beth changed the subject. “So are you just sticking around to give me some more advice or is there a purpose to this visit?”</p><p>Townes leaned forward, and Beth, as always, had to repress that very small part of her that still kind of crushed on him. It got tinier each year, but the spark had never quite gone away and she always suspected deep down, that unrequited love ran in her blood, something that would be a part of her always.</p><p>“How'd you like to go for a walk tomorrow?” His face was lovely, charming, and clearly up to something. </p><p>Beth rolled her eyes.</p>
<hr/><p>Beth had to admit that Izamailovo Park was lovely.</p><p>The trees were tall, frosted with snow, like something out of a Christmas card, Beth thought. There was a frozen pond, statues of various happy people that Beth wouldn't even begin to try to figure out, even some nicely built wooden pavilions. It was the definition of picturesque.</p><p>It was also really fucking cold and Townes had better get to the point because she was missing out on a chance to play some chess and he damn well knew better than that.</p><p>“So spill,” she said. “Why are we out in the Soviet equivalent of the North Pole? Were you looking for some sprightly elves? I think even they're freezing their balls off."</p><p>Townes grasped her arm and helped her across the path as she slipped. “I wanted to talk to you in private,” he said. “They may listen here, but it's less likely.”</p><p>Beth narrowed her eyes. “What on earth are you playing at?”</p><p>He pursed his lips, let out a breath of frustration that hung in the air. “I'd like to know the same thing,” he said. “Is this really just a vacation?”</p><p>“Everyone keeps asking me that,” Beth said. “I'm beginning to think that I should be up to something, just to match their expectations.”</p><p>Townes just looked at her. “So this is just what you say it is? Some time away?”</p><p>Beth smiled thinly. “If you're finagling for an interview,” she said, “I'm sure the State Department can come up with a more exciting answer than I got bored and wanted to play some chess. Maybe they'll throw in something about Lady Liberty and being a herald of democracy.”</p><p>“It isn't an interview,” Townes replied after a moment of silence. “It's just a friend making sure you're all right.”</p><p>“I'm good.” She watched the cloud of her breath form and dissipate after each word. “I think I'm better than I've been in a long while.”</p><p>“Well, for what it's worth, whatever you decide, I'm on your side. We all are.”</p><p>“I know,” Beth said, and didn't add, that could be a problem.</p>
<hr/><p>“You're distracted,” Agnessa said. Her voice was soft but Beth could clearly hear the note of complaint in it. “You're not even paying attention to me.” She was dressed in a black wool coat, her braids tucked in under the collar. She kept swinging her feet against the bench.</p><p>It's not like I really have to pay attention to beat you, Beth thought, but that was old impolite Beth that kept losing friends and she was working on possibly not alienating everyone around her. “Sorry,” she said. “I won't do it again.”</p><p>Agnessa left out a soft huff of breath. “Yes, you will,” she said. “So don't make promises you don't intend on keeping.”</p><p>“You're absolutely right,” Beth agreed amiably. “Check.”</p><p>The men were playing off in the corner, but every now and then, one of them threw a glance at their table. They kept grinning, which Beth felt like she should have been sick of by now, but it was comforting.</p><p>Agnessa peered at the board. “I'm never going to beat you, am I?” She didn't seem disappointed or angry, so much as matter of fact. A statement made as true as “the sun will come up tomorrow” or “Benny will never get rid of that hat.”</p><p>“Probably not any time soon,” Beth agreed. “But you know more about chess now than I did at your age, if that's any consolation.”</p><p>“Who taught you?”</p><p>Beth paused and looked at Agnessa. It was always something sharp in her every time she was asked that question, but she knew now that she couldn't run away from that question, couldn't bury Mr. Shaibel in the basement with his clippings and her failure.</p><p>“A very good man,” she said. “He was named Shaibel and he used to play games with me when I was at the orphanage.”</p><p>One of the best things about the Soviets, Beth decided, was upon hearing the word “orphanage,” there was neither a look of pity nor awkwardness. Agnessa, like so many others, just simply nodded and accepted it.</p><p>So was it terrible that made Beth feel more at home here? Borgov's comment had never completely left her, like so many other things she learned about her opponents. Truth, after all, could be found anywhere.</p><p>“You must have respected him very much,” Agnessa said solemnly.</p><p>“Why do you say that?”</p><p>“Because I cannot see you listening to anyone you wouldn't,” she replied and Beth realized that truly, terribly, she might have taught Agnessa far more than she intended.</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>The American Queen to Defect?</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Rumors have it that Beth Harmon, the wunderkind of chess who took the Soviets by storm, might have given far more in exchange. Sources say that she was supposed to have come back to meet the President and display how the Americans defeated the Soviets at their own game, but instead, they might be pulling a checkmate of their own.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Harmon has been over there for several days, and shows little interest in returning home. There is growing concern that what was being portrayed as a mission of democracy may turn into a diplomatic blunder of the highest proportions.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>One of her colleagues, however, disagrees. This anonymous source says “Look, Harmon isn't planning on defecting. There's too much she'd leave behind.”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Only time will tell if this is actually true.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p>“Beth, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but this is the most batshit crazy thing you've ever done and you remember that I'm seen you do some truly insane shit.”</p><p>Beth crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the trash. The State Department flunky had carefully dropped it off on her bed – a warning? A threat? Some light reading to pass the time while she waited to see if they were going to haul her ass on a plane back home?</p><p>“You know I'm not staying here, Jolene,” Beth said. “I'm just taking a vacation. Seeing the sights.”</p><p>“That's what you say and that's what that white boy of yours says, but I don't think either one of you believe it or you wouldn't be twisting the phone cord around in your hand.”</p><p>Beth looked down to find that she had indeed mangled the cord. “Well, I'm not planning on doing anything,” she said. “I'm just—winging it? I don't really know where to go from here.”</p><p>Jolene snorted. “Well, of course you don't. You've spent so long planning for getting to where you were, that you don't really know what happens after that.”</p><p>“So you don't think I'm leaving?”</p><p>She could hear the sigh in Jolene's voice. “The only thing I know is that you're sober and you just beat the shit out of a bunch of Soviets. If you want to stay there and keep doing that shit, I'm not going to tell you to come back.”</p><p>“You'd be the first one,” Beth said.</p><p>“We all want you to be happy,” Jolene replied. “Do you think you are?”</p><p>There was silence.</p><p>“I don't know,” Beth finally answered. “But I'm not unhappy.”</p><p>Jolene laughed, a short burst that made Beth smile. “Well, shit, that's probably the best any of can do these days.”</p>
<hr/><p>Georgi Girev was taller and his face had gotten sharper.</p><p>He was still a boy, though, and his face turned red when he saw Beth.</p><p>“I didn't expect to see you here, Miss Harmon,” he said.</p><p>“I didn't expect to be here,” she answered.</p><p>Beside her, she could hear Townes mutter something, but it was nothing she needed to concern her with, so she resumed ignoring him. People brushed past them, and Beth was certain that she would probably miss the opening bars, but it's not like she wanted to be there anyhow.</p><p>Still, as Townes pointed out, a public appearance to show that she hadn't been kidnapped or been sent to be brainwashed deep in some government building might keep the State Department from getting too concerned.</p><p>And it was nice to see people do a double take and say her name. The intoxication of fame was like any addiction in Beth's life – nice until it became an overwhelming mess that led to truly stupid, reckless things.</p><p>Also, the best things too.</p><p>She leaned in, let her voice go low and murmured, “Seen any Elvis Presley movies lately.”</p><p>Girev's face grew redder and he shook his head. “No,” he whispered back furiously. Then louder, “I owe you congratulations, Miss Harmon,” he said. “Your match was very exciting.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she said. There was no need to ask what he was referring to. “Though I don't believe that makes me a grandmaster quite yet.”</p><p>“No,” he agreed. “I will have to try harder to beat you there.”</p><p>Beth laughed and around her, people paused. “You can try,” she said, and she leaned over to pat his head. “I'll have to just stay on my toes.”</p><p>Girev's face cracked, surprisingly, and a sweet warm smile came over it. “I don't think you live your life any other way, Miss Harmon.”</p>
<hr/><p>Larissa Zhirova was a very attractive willowy brunette, and it was a pity that her charms were wasted on the two of them, Beth thought. Perhaps, in a different time, place, and state of mind, things might have gone differently, but ah—they were where they were and Townes was already asleep on the floor.</p><p>“You speak excellent Russian, Miss Harmon,” Zhirova said. “Far better than my meager French.”</p><p>Beth inclined her head. “Well, you dance far better than me,” she said, “so there's an advantage you have over me.”</p><p>Zhirova's laugh was like the chiming of little bells, all delicate and musical. “Did you appreciate the ballet?”</p><p>Beth weighed her words, balanced honesty with diplomacy, and decided, fuck it. “Not really,” she said. “To be honest, I started falling asleep.”</p><p>Zhirova's face still remained amused. “I will not hold it against you,” she said. “I cannot stand chess,” and she laughed even harder at the shadow that fell over Beth's face. “Ah, but see, I insult your love and you must stand up for her!”</p><p>Beth let herself slump against the cushions. It would be so much more fun if she were drinking for this conversation, but it was late, she was tired, and—well, it wasn't happening. “From the parts I did see, you were lovely,” she said.</p><p>“We are always lovely,” Zhirova answered, and it was this rather than any of Beth's insults (intentional or otherwise) that caused the smile on her face to become something more wistful. “Any jewel must shine in the setting it is fixed into.”</p><p>“That must be difficult,” Beth said.</p><p>“Yes,” Zhirova agreed. “Which is why I always make sure that I am the foremost in the crown.”</p><p>It wasn't subtle, and Beth appreciated that. She'd sort of had her fill of people being cryptic lately. Speaking of which...</p><p>She gently kicked his body and Townes let out a soft snore.</p><p>Asshole, she thought fondly.</p>
<hr/><p>Agnessa was not there the next day.</p><p>Scherbina was there, and he looked up, his face weary as Beth approached him.</p><p>“She's with her parents,” he said. “She won't be coming back here.”</p><p>“I didn't say anything,” Beth blurted out.</p><p>“You didn't have to,” Scherbina's smile was rueful. “Your publicity does enough.”</p><p>He handed her a paper and she saw the picture of her, playing chess with Agnessa. It must have been taken in the middle of one of their more intense games, as the two of them looked deep in concentration.</p><p>Passing The Torch Along? A New Female Master?</p><p>“I'm sorry,” Beth said. “I didn't mean to--”</p><p>Scherbina held up a hand. “I knew it would happen,” he said. “I suppose I hoped that it might come later, but everywhere has eyes and ears. It was inevitable.”</p><p>“So what happens now?”</p><p>Scherbina shrugged. “We continue to play chess,” he said. “My daughter will eventually forgive me.”</p><p>“But not me, I would gather.” Beth sat down from across him, placed her head on her hands.</p><p>“Oh, she loves you,” Scherbina laughed. “She just doesn't want her daughter thinking she could ever be someone like you.”</p><p>It surprisingly stung, despite all the hits Beth had taken in her life. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I don't think many mothers would--”</p><p>Scherbina carefully laid his hand on Beth's, its cool weight causing her to look up. “It is not what you think, Miss Harmon.”</p><p>“Then what is it?” Beth tried not to snap it out, but hurt caused it to lash with more intensity than she wanted.</p><p>“Right now, Agnessa does not have the ability to make the same choices as you, Liza,” Scherbina said. “But I wanted her to see that maybe someday, she might. One glimpse of sunlight in clouds can be remembered through periods of rain.”</p><p>So many metaphors. Beth sighed. “Let's just play, then.”</p><p>She beat Scherbina in twenty moves, mostly because she was still distracted in thought.</p><p>Agnessa was right.</p><p>She really shouldn't make promises she couldn't keep.</p>
<hr/><p>“Are you going to Amsterdam next month?”</p><p>Beth blinked, sitting down on the floor. “Why would I?”</p><p>Benny, as always, managed to combine concern and smugness into an intoxicating cocktail that made Beth wish she could just throw him to the floor and—well, look, it had been a while and Beth was on her best behavior over here and maybe that was one reason she should go back soon. “Because you were invited to?”</p><p>Beth furrowed her brow, trying to remember. “A tournament?” she hazarded.</p><p>Benny, that adorable little shit, seemed to turn even more smug. “The IBM one? You were invited.”</p><p>“Why don't I remember that?”</p><p>“Because you were so focused on Borgov, you've been away from your mail, and you just got invited while you were overseas because Nilsson got sick and they're looking to pick someone up for the 16th slot. And since you're the current star of the moment--”</p><p>“You asshole,” Beth said. “So this isn't something I forgot.”</p><p>“No,” Benny answered. “I'm surprised the State Department didn't remind you.”</p><p>“So am I,” Beth said. “But then again, I have been trying to avoid them. It's been very restful.”</p><p>“Nothing about you is restful,” Benny countered. “I miss you, you know.”</p><p>“I know you do,” Beth said fondly. “You could always come out to visit me.”</p><p>Benny scoffed. “It's freezing cold, there's no longer a tournament, and everyone would just ignore me for you anyhow. Just come back home,” he said. “And I promise--”</p><p>“What?” Beth said, lowering her voice. “What exactly are you going to give me if I do?”</p><p>“I'm not telling you over the phone,” Benny said. “I don't want--”</p><p>“You didn't mind them hearing your master plan,” Beth replied. “Surely, you can't begrudge them a little thrill by explaining in great detail what you want to do to me. It's a very cold winter over here.”</p><p>“Come back,” Benny said and hung up.</p><p>“I can wait,” Beth said out loud. “So can you.”</p>
<hr/><p>This time, it was Kasnayenko who spotted her and stood up right away. Behind him, Scherbina and Tsvetkov looked grave, and kept whispering back and forth.</p><p>“Liza Harmon,” Kasnayenko said. “We need to talk.”</p><p>Beth got a sinking feeling in her stomach, a pit that widened and she swallowed dryly, trying to think. Had there been another picture taken? Another article written? Had Townes tried to interview them and in the process, caused a diplomatic scandal of serious proportions?</p><p>Oh, wait, she thought. That would probably be her.</p><p>“Don't you want to play?” she asked.</p><p>At that statement, the men exchanged a glance. “Liza Harmon,” Kasnayenko repeated. “We will not be playing today. Or tomorrow.”</p><p>Fuck, Beth thought. Okay, there are other places I can play. Other people—maybe Girev will---</p><p>“You need to take some time away,” Tsvetkov said, his gruff voice cutting into Beth's thoughts. “It is not right just spending all this time here with us. There are other places you can go.”</p><p>“Are you—are you getting rid of me?” Beth heard her voice waver, and she swallowed the lump back in her throat. Maybe they were sick of constantly getting beaten. Maybe once they had seen their goddess in the flesh and gotten to know all her irritating little quirks, they realized that she wasn't worth their worship after all. Maybe--</p><p>“You need to take a vacation,” Scherbina said.</p><p>Beth's mouth fell open. Of all the statements to hear, that was the least likely. “What?” she asked blankly.</p><p>“It isn't the right weather for the seaside,” Tsvetkov said, “but the ocean air is very invigorating. It would be good for you to get out of Moscow to see other sights.”</p><p>“I agree,” Scherbina said. “Perhaps Sochi?”</p><p>Kasnayenko shook his head. “Too far,” he countered. “Perhaps Riga.”</p><p>“You always say Riga,” Tsvetkov said grumpily. “There are other places.”</p><p>“Not as nice as Riga,” Kasnayenko spat back. “And Liza Harmon deserves the best.”</p><p>No, Beth could definitely not process this. She decided to sit down on the bench.</p><p>Fuck. Maybe she could go back home.</p><p>A vacation? Away from chess? How strange was that?</p>
<hr/><p>“Riga,” the State Department lackey said, after getting off the phone. “We think Riga would be the best.”</p><p>“You don't want me to go back?” Beth asked. She still hadn't wrapped her mind around the concept of leaving Moscow, venturing out hours past what she knew to—well, somewhere else.</p><p>He looked at her appraisingly. “It's true that you've been deeply uncooperative about certain tasks we've asked you to do. But on the other hand, your presence here has kept a popular opinion of America on the rise. Muscovites tend to view you as an idol, and we would be foolish not to capitalize on positive sentiment.”</p><p>“Right,” Beth managed to say. “So Riga.”</p><p>“Yes,” the lackey said. “It's closer than Sochi and we do have people that can keep an eye on you there. Plus, it is a relatively popular tourist destination, so you're unlikely to stick out too hard there. The Soviets might not want you going too far into their more rural areas.”</p><p>Politics rear their head again, Beth thought. Why did it always come down to that shit?</p><p>“Fine,” she said. “It's not like I'm going to need to pack a bathing suit. It's way too cold.”</p><p>“That will also be to your benefit,” the lackey said placidly. “We wouldn't want certain types of pictures getting out.”</p><p>Beth thought very long and hard about throwing her shoe at his face, but she settled for yawning obnoxiously and stretching. “Well, don't count on me making any grand speeches or preaching democracy,” she said. “I'm just there to catch my breath.”</p><p>The lackey smiled and there was a curious glint in his eye. “Just be yourself, Beth Harmon,” he said. “I'm certain everything will work out for the best.”</p>
<hr/><p>"Only you would get a paid vacation just for being obnoxious."</p><p>Jolene's voice was amused, and also a little bit annoyed, and Beth pictured her expression. It filled her with warmth.</p><p>"Can I help it that everyone loves me?"</p><p>"No," Jolene said. "You really can't."</p><p>They were both quiet for a while, listening to each other breathe. Conversations were easy when they were games. Truth was much harder to serve back to someone. </p><p>"I miss you," Beth said. "I miss having someone who knows me."</p><p>"Calls you on your shit, you mean," Jolene said, but her tone was still affectionate, still a distant voice that called her home without saying the words. </p><p>"You're doing okay, right?" Beth asked. "I can--"</p><p>"Don't finish that sentence." The phone crackled. "Finish this instead. Whatever it is you're doing, see it through."</p><p>"Yeah," Beth agreed softly. "I'll try not to start any revolutions."</p><p>Jolene snorted.  "Well, if you do, let me know. We'll make it a damn good one."</p>
<hr/><p>The train ride was bumpy, long, and worst of all, Beth had no one to play chess with.</p><p>So she leaned back, tried to sleep, and wondered just exactly what the hell she was doing.</p><p>Relax, Harmon, she told herself. It's just a trip to see some sights. You'll walk along the beach, see some old architecture, and try not to offend anyone important.</p><p>Beth sighed and looked down at the letter.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Beth,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Hoping you'll get this before you leave. Dropped it off at the Embassy. I think they got rid of most of the bugs there, but you know, they never really go away for good.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I'll be leaving Moscow soon. My attachment wasn't a permanent thing, and I'm being recalled back to the States. Maybe they're mad I wasn't able to seduce you. Sometimes I'm a little angry about that too, so I can understand the emotion.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Look, whatever you decide, wherever you end up, I'm not going to worry about you. Not because I don't care, but because I'm pretty sure that you can survive whatever's thrown at you. Hell, I know you can. And I also know that you know now that you have people waiting for you. They're going to give you as much time as you need, but not as much as you'd like.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Yes, I'm being annoyingly cryptic. Deal with it.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I'll see you around,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Townes</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>She thought about answering it before she left.</p><p>Thought about calling Benny, calling Jolene, even just telling the State Department that she'd changed her mind, her vacation was over, and she wanted to go home.</p><p>She didn't.</p><p>It was very easy to tell someone to come home. It was much harder when they didn't exactly know where home was.</p>
<hr/><p>Riga was beautiful.</p><p>Beth had to admit that it was probably an excellent choice. Old, gorgeous buildings, lots of trees, and the proximity to the ocean meant that even in the dead of winter, she still enjoyed being outside. No lounging in the pool, of course, but there were other things she could do.</p><p>Like avoid the Museum of the Revolution, which Beth frankly suspected would either irritate or bore her, two states she desperately strived to avoid.</p><p>So she walked around, aware at all times that there were eyes upon her. Some, she suspected, belonged to her own bodyguards, kept at a distance. Others were likely official Soviet monitoring to make sure she stayed out of trouble.</p><p>Good try, Beth thought. No one's been able to accomplish that.</p><p>And some, she wondered, might just belong to people who knew her. Who had heard of her. How far had her name stretched? Would there be a place here where Beth Harmon couldn't hide?</p><p>Or would it be that simple to just disappear, to play chess in the park and let her name fade away. The first American female grandmaster (maybe, possibly, sources were unclear on that, and in all likelihood, probably not) could just... stop.</p><p>Not chess, never chess, but maybe just stop being whatever people perceived Beth Harmon to be and just be who she wanted to be.</p><p>There was a reason she didn't get on the plain after all.</p><p>It was colder as she got closer to the beach, the sand grainy beneath her toes. The ocean stretched out far and wide in front of her, a vast expanse of blue that tempted her to plunge into it, to take her breath away and leave her shaking and cold.</p><p>Losing was like that too. Once it happened, it was terrifying and horrible, but also exhilarating because it meant that she had finally met her match.</p><p>But she was learning that winning could have its own strange terrors.</p><p>Because what do you do when your goal is met? When your enemy is human? When you look at the board and realize that there is no more possible moves, no way to back out, that your win is as inevitable as the tide that washes over and crushes everything?</p><p>“Miss Harmon,” the voice said and she looked up.</p><p>In the sunset, the wind blowing cold against her, the shadow that used to block her smiled at her.</p><p>“I thought it might be you.”</p><p>Vasily Borgov bowed slightly.</p>
<hr/><p>“Are you here on vacation?” Borgov asked.</p><p>Away from the board, his foreboding nature receded. He was casually dressed, and the wind had blown his hair slightly askew, making him less the implacable, indifferent (but never cruel) monster that had crushed her, and more the man who had lost with a smile and hugged her with genuine warmth and happiness.</p><p>“Yes,” Beth said, looking around. She didn't see any men in suits, but that didn't mean anything. They were always nearby. “I've been on one for a while now.”</p><p>It came out a little awkward and she winced into a silence that neither one of them really felt the need to interrupt.</p><p>A few minutes passed. Beth looked out at the ocean.</p><p>“You know, for as much as we've played, I've never really talked to you,” Borgov said. “I suppose you must see me as some sort of enemy.”</p><p>“Not an enemy,” Beth blurted out. “More an obstacle.”</p><p>“An obstacle?” He chuckled. “I suppose that's better.”</p><p>“And me?” Beth asked. “I'm guessing I don't rate that highly. At least until now.”</p><p>Borgov looked serious, and Beth got a horrible twinge that he might seriously be considering that thought. Impulsivity meet analysis and watch the messy aftermath.</p><p>At last, he raised his head. “Perhaps a possibility,” he said. “A potentiality that existed but could not be realized until now.”</p><p>“Well, I suppose that's better too,” Beth said. “Though I don't feel like I'm done with that quite yet.”</p><p>“You're not,” Borgov agreed. “You haven't become a world champion yet, for one thing.”</p><p>Beth's laugh came out of her, a breath she didn't realize she had let out. “I defeated you. Surely that qualifies me.”</p><p>“It was an invitational,” he said. “Not an official ranking. Points-wise, I wouldn't be surprised if you'll be a grandmaster in short order, but a world champion?” He smiled. “You'll have to get past a lot of people for that one.”</p><p>“I will,” Beth said firmly.</p><p>Borgov turned, and looked at the ocean, holding his hand to his forehead. He seemed to be staring off into the distance for quite some time. “Yes,” he said eventually. “I know you will.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Your family's not here,” Beth said.</p><p>The restaurant was relatively empty, which pleased them both. There had always been the slightly cheaper option of the canteen, but neither one of them had wanted the crowds, and there was always the possibility of recognition, something neither of them desired at the moment.</p><p>“They're back home,” Borgov replied.</p><p>The soup was good and hot, and the meatballs fairly well spiced, so Beth used it as an excuse to avoid asking further questions, like why didn't they join you? What are you doing here? How exactly did we manage to run into each other?</p><p>Instead they both ate in comfortable silence.</p><p>Outside the restaurant, the wind had turned colder but the hotel the State Department had arranged was not too far away, so Borgov offered to walk her there, brushing away her insistence she could make it on her own. “Not here,” he said gently. “You are a young lady by herself.”</p><p>“I can handle myself,” she said.</p><p>“Of that I have no doubt.”</p><p>They walked along in companionable silence and Beth fought the urge to ask him if he brought along a chess set, because surely one game would be fine. Or two... or three.. or</p><p>“You are going to Amsterdam next week,” Borgov said.</p><p>Beth startled a bit, and then did the math in her head. Next week, she thought. How long had she been here?</p><p>“I suppose,” she said. “I haven't really arranged anything, though.”</p><p>Borgov nodded. “I'm sure your country will work that out. You are their pride and joy after all. Defeating me is a feather in their cap.”</p><p>“I didn't do it for them,” Beth grumbled. “It had nothing to do with that.”</p><p>“No,” Borgov said softly. “For you, I suppose it wouldn't.”</p><p>“Well, if you had beaten me,” Beth said, “would it have been for the glory of the Soviet Union?”</p><p>“That would be the right answer,” he replied carefully. “And perhaps even true at certain points.”</p><p>Beth's mouth snapped shut, aware that she was wandering into some murky territory. Really, she had been aware for some time that there were some games at play that she had not been invited into, and while normally that would infuriate her, in this instance, she realized she was not the player.</p><p>She was the piece and she had no idea how she was being directed.</p><p>But the board lay before her and she'd make the best of it. “You haven't said why you are out here. Were you taking a rest after the tournament?”</p><p>“I was planning on seeing an old friend,” Borgov replied. “In fact, this may be perfect timing.”</p><p>His teeth gleamed in the dark. “Would you like to play some chess?”</p>
<hr/><p>“Sorry, I can't hear you,” Beth said, sticking a finger in one ear. “I think it must be the connection.”</p><p>“I don't know why I bother,” Benny said.</p><p>“Because you love me,” Beth answered.</p><p>“I do,” he said, “but you're still crazy. Going out to a country house in the middle of nowhere to play chess with two men, one of whom you just met at the tournament?”</p><p>“Don't worry,” Beth said in a reassuring tone. “I promise I'll beat them.”</p><p>Benny sighed. “You do know how it looks. Young woman, goes out without a chaperone--”</p><p>“I wasn't aware I needed one.”</p><p>“Look, I don't think you do, but I'm not the one writing headlines about whether or not the Red Queen is getting seduced by the Red Star.”</p><p>“It is catchy,” Beth mused. “Imagine how they'd draw me in the propaganda.”</p><p>“I don't have to imagine,” Benny said. “Townes already sent me a few choice images.”</p><p>“Really?” Beth tried not to sound too intrigued. “Any way I can get copies of them?”</p><p>“I'll have them framed for you,” Benny replied. “Anyhow, just promise me you'll at least let the State Department know.”</p><p>“Oh, they know,” Beth said airily. “Or they will once I get picked up.”</p><p>“I really should have just flown over there,” Benny muttered.</p><p>“Too late now,” Beth said cheerfully and hung up the phone.</p>
<hr/><p>There was a momentary disagreement on who was going to drive, which was quickly solved by Luchenko sliding into the driver's seat, and giving Beth a brilliant smile.</p><p>“It's so lovely to see you, my dear,” he said. “It gives this old heart pause to see such youth in brilliant display.”</p><p>Beth tried not to blush but it was hard. She accepted the front seat, as Borgov held the door open for her, before awkwardly clambering into the back. “Compared to some of your masters, I don't feel that young,” she said. “I saw Girev a few weeks ago, and he's still a baby.”</p><p>Luchenko chuckled. “He's certainly a feisty one,” he said. “I think it's a toss-up as to whom his greatest crush is on, Elizabeth Taylor or you.”</p><p>“Me,” Beth said and this time she lost the fight to redness. “I'm seen him twice in his life.”</p><p>“And you beat him once,” Borgov said from the back. “He's a young man now. It's not hard to see how might develop a fixation on a young lady that speaks his language.”</p><p>To anyone else, Beth might have said, my Russian isn't that spectacular, but everyone in the car knew that was not their common tongue, so she remained silent.</p><p>“He'll get over it,” she eventually said. “We all do.”</p><p>“I suppose so,” Luchenko said. “But you would be very hard to forget.”</p><p>At that point, Beth just hid her head in her hands and wondered just how terrible of a mistake she was making.</p>
<hr/><p>The dacha out in the countryside was relatively well-kept, the garden not overgrown with weeds. It was a brilliant shade of green that caught Beth's eye as they got closer.</p><p>“It's very lovely,” Beth said. “I've never seen one before.”</p><p>Luchenko nodded as they pulled in. Borgov had slept the entire way there, seemingly exhausted. Beth had noticed the dark circles under his eyes as he had arrived, but thought better of saying anything.</p><p>“Vasily here has one,” Luchenko said. “Nicer than mine. And bigger.”</p><p>“It's not that much bigger,” Borgov protested, as he cracked his neck.</p><p>“Don't listen to him,” Luchenko replied. “It's because he's a world champion,” he continued.</p><p>“So are you.”</p><p>Luchenko waved his hand at Borgov dismissively. “I am an old tiger,” he said. “You two are still fresh in the game.”</p><p>“So if I stayed here and kept winning, would they give me a house?” Beth asked, stretching her legs as she got out. “Just curious.”</p><p>“My dear, they would probably give you an estate,” Luchenko said, winking. “You would be the envy of all my comrades. They would be clamoring for invitations.”</p><p>Beth snorted. “No thanks,” she said. “I'd rather keep it private.”</p><p>“Wouldn't we all,” Borgov said and refused to elaborate.</p><p>Inside the dacha, it was warm and comfortable, a fire already going. It didn't smell of must or disuse.</p><p>“Normally, I would not come here during the winter,” Luchenko said. “My old bones can't take it. But when my old friend says he needs a break, who am I to say no?”</p><p>Beth looked over at Borgov, who was already walking upstairs. “Is he all right?” she asked quietly. “I hope--”</p><p>“It's not you, my dear,” Luchenko said. “He wasn't disappointed when you beat him. Of course he hoped he win, but more than that, he hoped for a splendid game and you gave that to him.”</p><p>“But--”</p><p>Luchenko patted her on the shoulder. “Just let him be,” he said. “Now show me the endgame again.”</p>
<hr/><p>Beth was given a small bedroom with turned down sheets and a vase of flowers. It was vaguely heartwarming and Beth wondered just exactly how long Luchenko knew she would be coming along.</p><p>There was the sense in the back of her mind that all of this was highly irregular, improper, all those nice words that meant that Beth should watch herself carefully, conduct herself with deportment, and definitely not hang out with strange Russian grandmasters.</p><p>It was a shame that she had never listened to that voice.</p><p>She did listen to the voice, however, telling her that maybe a short nap might be a good thing, and so she drifted off, only bothering to take off her shoes before slipping beneath the blankets.</p><p>She awoke several hours later, to darkness outside the window and voices down below.</p><p>Carefully making her way along the stairs, she stopped and listened as they became more distinct.</p><p>“You're sure,” Luchenko said. “You can make a different choice.”</p><p>“No,” Borgov replied. “It's always been the right move.”</p><p>“If you insist,” and Beth was uncomfortably aware that she was once again eavesdropping on a conversation, only this time in far less auspicious circumstances. She decided to make herself known, before she was caught.</p><p>She made an obvious noise on the steps, walking down, and the two men turned to look at her. A chess board lay between them, with Borgov clearly playing white.</p><p>“The last time I saw you two play,” she said, “you were trying to figure out how to defeat me after Luchenko's adjournment.”</p><p>“You saw that, did you?” Luchenko seemed more amused than anything else. “It may seem slightly unfair but it didn't help me in the end, did it though?”</p><p>“No,” Beth said. “But I'm not going to call it unfair. It's a tactical strategy like anything else. Just like you must be aware that I consulted some of my friends to defeat you.” She looked at Borgov.</p><p>“Indeed,” he admitted. “Some day, they will probably disallow all of that, but until then, there's no sense in passing up alliances, now is there?”</p><p>Beth shook her head and Borgov got up. “Why don't you take a seat,” he said, motioning to the board. “I'm sure Luchenko would love to play a game with you again.”</p><p>“You're not insisting upon playing Miss Harmon,” Luchenko said, his tone even. “I would have thought you have.”</p><p>“There's always Amsterdam.” Borgov smiled. “Good night,” he said, and walked into the next room.</p><p>Luchenko nodded. “That boy,” he said. “Never says what he means.”</p>
<hr/><p>“I must be getting older,” Luchenko said, staring at the board in dismay. “Because I lost in even less time to you than before. At least then we got to an adjournment. A most masterful disassembling of my strategy this time.”</p><p>“You weren't wrong to castle,” Beth said, her chin still on her hands. “It was the safest option.”</p><p>“But I shouldn't have moved my knight to A5,” Luchenko laughed. “Such an obvious trap in retrospect. And once you took my queen, well, that was it.”</p><p>“You know Borgov very well,” Beth said, abruptly taking her head off her chin. “Were you his teacher?”</p><p>“Hardly,” Luchenko began setting the pieces back. “He didn't need my assistance to know how to play brilliantly. Not like you my dear, but a force of nature in his own way.”</p><p>“But you knew him when he was younger.”</p><p>“He was ambitious like you.” Luchenko looked thoughtful. “We all are driven to win, I suppose. Just as he's never offered a draw before, both of you knew you wouldn't take it. He still had to offer it.”</p><p>“A way for both of us to walk away?”</p><p>Luchenko closed his eyes, and he looked tired. During the game, he had been full of energy, but now his age showed. “Vasily is a sentimentalist, I suppose. He's always been too soft for his own good.”</p><p>Beth laughed, disbelieving. “Too soft? He's crushed me into the ground twice.”</p><p>“Your game,” Luchenko said, calmly. “He will never show pity there. But for people?” He shrugged. “He is too kind.”</p><p>After that, Luchenko clammed up and refused to talk.</p><p>Beth went back to her room, and just wondered how much had been said in the silence that lingered.</p>
<hr/><p>They spent another day there, much the same. Chess in the morning, with Luchenko managing to play to a draw after an exhausting back and forth battle .</p><p>In the afternoon, they went to the local pond where Beth tried to skip a few stones, and Borgov and Luchenko continued to whisper. It was deeply annoying, which didn't help Beth's control.</p><p>Evening was much the same – another game, this time much quicker and Beth got her second win at the dacha.</p><p>“Constantly getting beaten in my own house,” Luchenko jokingly complained. “Maybe you should take a turn.”</p><p>“No,” Borgov said, his smile small and quiet. “I'm waiting for the official board.”</p><p>“You just don't want me to see your tricks,” Beth teased. “Trying something new?”</p><p>“Perhaps,” he said, his face rueful. "After all, you know all my old gambits now."</p><p>"Not necessarily." Beth plucked the king off the board, let her eyes rest upon it. "You could always surprise me. Shake things up."</p><p>Luchenko chuckled. "Ah, youth," he said. "There's always time to start again."</p><p>"You too," Borgov murmured. "You're not too old."</p><p>"Oh, Vasily," Luchenko said fondly. "For such an excellent chess player, you're still such a terrible liar."</p><p>Beth set the king on its side, watched it roll off the board. </p><p>She didn't bother to pick it up.</p>
<hr/><p>“Amsterdam,” Luchenko said as Beth was yawning, pulling on her coat in the early dawn. It was still bitterly cold, even with the sun streaking pink and red across the sky. “And then where will you go?”</p><p>It was a good question, and Beth thought she might have finally gotten the answer.</p><p>Or rather, she thought, she had finally admitted it to herself. </p><p>“Home,” she said. “Back to my family.”</p><p>Luchenko smiled and took her hand, bowing to kiss it. “I wish you the best, my dear,” he said. “Try not to crush him too hard.”</p><p>“I make no promises,” Beth said. </p><p>Borgov took the wheel for their trip back to Riga, Luchenko having begged off.</p><p>The ride was quiet all the way back, so quiet that Beth found herself falling asleep and not waking up until they hit Riga.</p><p>“I'll miss you,” Luchenko said, as she stretched her legs outside the car, breathing in the scent of ocean and a winter breeze. "It was an unexpected honor playing you again."</p><p>She smiled. “Next Moscow Invitational perhaps?”</p><p>“I make no promises,” he said and smiled when she did.</p><p>Borgov watched him leave and then looked at Beth. “You'll be leaving soon as well, I suppose.”</p><p>“I guess,” she said. “I didn't make any arrangements to leave.”</p><p>“You'll find your way there,” Borgov answered. “I wouldn't be surprised if there's already a ticket waiting in Moscow.”</p><p>“I'll see you there,” Beth said, and watched him walk into the distance, shoulders hunched under his coat until the snow and the streets hid him from view.</p>
<hr/><p>Back in Moscow, the State Department lackey was waiting for her.</p><p>“So what exactly should I be calling you,” Beth asked. “Jones? Smith?”</p><p>“Thompson,” he said. “Since you're actually asking.”</p><p>Beth shrugged. “Well, I need something to refer to you, or the plane ride back to Amsterdam is going to be just as awkward as the one here.”</p><p>“Did you enjoy Riga?” Thompson asked as Beth picked up her cup from the table. “I hope you had a restful time there and are finally ready to get back to the game.”</p><p>“Did I ever leave it?” Beth asked wryly. “Borgov said he'd play me in Amsterdam. Only there, though,” she added. “He's rather particular.”</p><p>Thompson smiled. “Well, I'm sure you can give him a good game there,” he said blandly. “Perhaps it wasn't a waste letting you stay here.”</p><p>“Oh, nothing I do is ever wasted,” Beth said lightly. “It just sometimes takes a while to pan out."</p>
<hr/><p>She went to the park one last time.</p><p>“Liza Harmon,” Kasnayenko said, standing up to greet her. “Did you enjoy Riga?”</p><p>She looked at them, and blinked to keep the tears from forming in her eyes. “It was lovely,” Beth said. “Definitely a beautiful place.”</p><p>He elbowed Scherbina. “I told you,” he said. “Nothing but the best for Liza.”</p><p>“I came to tell you I'm leaving,” she said. “I have to go back home.”</p><p>“Yes,” Tsvetkov said. “We knew you would.”</p><p>“It has been a privilege to play against you,” Scherbina said solemnly. “We will never forget it.”</p><p>“Neither will I,” Beth said quietly. “It was so much fun.”</p><p>Kasnayenko's face broke out into a wide, toothless smile. “Keep winning for us, Liza Harmon,” he said. “Then we can say we played the best.”</p><p>“I will,” she said, and then turning to Scherbina, she smiled and added, “give my greetings to Agnessa. And this.”</p><p>She took the white queen out of her pocket and handed it to him. She'd have to apologize to Luchenko, since he'd have to pull out another set, but somehow, she doubted he'd mind. “Tell her I'll see in a few years. I know she can make it there.”</p><p>Scherbina's eyes were teary, but he put the queen in his pocket.</p>
<hr/><p>Thompson didn't talk to her on the plane. Unlike last time, Beth took it for the gift that it was, and let herself sleep the entire plane flight over.</p><p>Amsterdam was also nice, she had to say. There were players she'd seen before, most of whom were either gracious or intimidated, and the sight of Hellstrom was good for a laugh, since she knew he knew she'd crush him handily.</p><p>And of course, Vasily Borgov. Beth suspected that half the reason they asked her to replace Nilsson was just so they could get an epic rematch between her and Borgov.</p><p>Everyone loves a good rivalry, especially when they're photogenic.</p><p>Borgov did no interviews, so Beth picked up the slack, being charming and gracious and deeply hating every minute of it. She did make sure to drop Shaibel's name in every interview, so that was worth it.</p><p>The tournament passed quickly with nothing terribly surprising. She did crush Hellstrom, he did shake her hand this time (possibly her pointed glance at his hand might have something to do with it), and she didn't drink once.</p><p>She found she was no longer surprised by that, just as she wasn't surprised to find that in the end, it came down to her and Borgov.</p><p>He inclined his head to her, acknowledging the same.</p><p>“Let's give them a show,” Beth said softly and smiled at him.</p><p>And they both fought hard, taking each other's pieces. Borgov fought more aggressively than usual, while Beth found herself taking some more conservative moves, one she wouldn't have normally considered.</p><p>In the end, it wasn't enough for either one of them to win outright, though at least the game wasn't adjourned.</p><p>“A draw,” they announced, and both Beth and Borgov accepted.</p><p>They smiled at the cameras, shook hands, and let themselves be proclaimed joint winners.</p><p>Then Borgov leaned over and whispered in her ear.</p><p>Beth let herself laugh. “He wants to know where to get the best tulips here,” she joked and a ripple of laughter went around the room.</p><p>Whispers of <em>oh, I heard his wife is sick</em> and <em>that's why she's not here you know</em> went around the room, as Beth ducked her head, and smiled brightly at all the journalists, including Townes, who regarded her with deep and knowing suspicion.</p><p>It wasn't as cold outside as it had been in Moscow, but Beth's skin prickled with nerves.</p><p>Beth and Borgov walked casually along outside, their feet muffled in soft snow drifts on the pavement. “You're sure it's the right move,” she said.</p><p>“No,” Borgov looked at her and she could see how tired he was, how bone-weary he looked. “But it's the best one.” He breathed in deeply. "I will see them again."</p><p>Beth nodded, then raised her voice. “Oh, no,” she called out. “I think someone just stole my purse.”</p><p>They picked up their pace, walking more quickly.</p><p>Behind them, they could hear clacking feet, the sounds of shoes trying to catch up. But it was crowded on the streets and they had already made it past the biggest hurdle – getting out of the building.</p><p>“I really will miss Moscow,” Beth said wistfully. “I don't think they're going to let me come back now.”</p><p>Borgov just gave her a look and she accepted it. “I'm not saying I wanted to stay there for good,” she added as the lights of the station came into view. “It would have been nice to keep having the choice.”</p><p>“Sometimes,” Borgov said, as the doors opened and they made their way in, “you don't get the choice you want.”</p><p>He stopped and said the one sentence Beth knew he must have been practicing all that time at Luchenko's, wanting to get his endgame right.</p><p>“I want political asylum.”</p><p>His hand shook. Beth grasped it tightly.</p>
<hr/><p>This time, she took the plane.</p><p>Somewhere back there, Borgov was surrounded by masses of government agents, including Thompson, she was sure. He'd done his job well, gotten the pieces in the right position to make his play for the endgame.</p><p>Probably a promotion was in order so he'd never have to deal with primadonna chess players who like to run off and ignore all the carefully crafted suggestions they'd been given.</p><p>And Borgov... well, they'd meet again. There were a number of countries that didn't want to deal with the thorny problem of a Soviet defector, but Beth suspected the allure of having him in the United States would be too much for them to pass up.</p><p>After all, she was certain Townes was already working on a great story for that one.</p><p>Maybe “Red Queen Takes Red Star, Checkmate,” or “Trading The Red Star For The Stars and Stripes.” Okay, it so it needed a little work. It was still too much of a coup for her country to pass up.</p><p>And someday, she and Borgov would both be in the White House, staring over a chess board while a man who knew nothing about the game insisted they smile and shake hands and be the jewels in his crown.</p><p>Sometimes, the choices you get aren't the ones you want.</p><p>But sometimes, there's enough to warrant making them in the first place.</p><p>Beth stepped off the plane to the sounds of a cheering crowd. She didn't recognize half the people and she knew with weary resignation that she'd have to put up with more interviews than she'd ever want to. There'd be stupid questions, there'd be so many photographs, and she'd be lucky if she could get back to a tournament in the next six months.</p><p>But there were others there - Jolene, smiling and shaking her head at her. Matt and Mike, leaping around in excitement and high-fiving each other.</p><p>And Benny...</p><p>She walked over to him, let him hug her tightly even as the flashbulbs snapped and blinded her and questions were shouted in her face.</p><p>“See,” she said. “I came back after all.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I like to think that Beth Harmon shook up the chess world so much that in this universe, IBM held its annual Amsterdam tournaments in February instead of July. So apologies for a little championship timeline massaging (and for making all the conversations that would be in Russian be in English.  Unlike Netflix, I cannot subtitle things). </p><p>Also, Borgov's defection is based on Viktor Korchnoi's.  There are far more exciting defections involving people jumping off of planes, leaping off of boats, or hiding in car trunks, but this is Vasily Borgov and I feel his would be far more practical and sedate (and effective). </p><p>Beth and Luchenko's game is modeled on the Fischer vs Reshevsky game of 1958.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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